


Hypnotic Presence

by Skippyjo94



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Quentin Beck, Brief discussion on lack of consent, Dry Humping, Dubious Consent, Hardcore/Too Rough, Hypnosis, Hypnosis/Mind Breaks, Hypnotism, Kinda, Kissing, M/M, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter uses his strength, Role Reversal, SSBB Kinkmas 2020, Tearing clothes, Top Peter Parker, Villain Quentin Beck, Wall Sex, slight size difference, too rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skippyjo94/pseuds/Skippyjo94
Summary: Quentin has new technology that induces hypnotic states.  When he tries it out on Peter there are unexpected outcomes.  Unexpected, though not at all unwelcome.Peter is hypnotized, Quentin takes advantage.  Or does he?
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 95
Collections: SSBB Kinkmas 2020





	Hypnotic Presence

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is is my kinkmas fic. One of two that I wrote but this one felt better to post. My prompts were Too Rough/Hardcore and Hypnosis/Mind Breaks. So here's the deal. I am not good at rough but I tried. And the situation is a little rough on it's own so there's my reasoning. I think it turned out pretty well, all things considered. And of course it is Peter/Quentin. Apparently I have a problem...
> 
> Thank you to everyone in the server that helped to motivate me and even did writing sprints with me to make me actually get it written! Y'all are great!
> 
> I did edit this, but part of it happened in a moving vehicle, and part of it was with screaming children present. Sorry if there are mistakes that slipped through! It shouldn't be bad though.
> 
> If you are concerned about the Dub Con part, check the end notes. That should clear up what is happening. Anyway. Hope you enjoy reading!

When he had started working on it, he had no intentions of using his new tech quite like this.

He had been working on the concept for a long time. He had been the lead engineer on the company's drone projects countless times; they had been his life for more years than he cared to count.

This particular concept he was trying out was hardly new. The possibility of turning his drone projections, his advanced version of virtual reality, into the proper configuration of lights and colors to trigger a hypnotic episode was something he had been playing around with for years.

He had looked into it extensively, done his research, gone to more hypnotherapist appointments than was probably considered healthy, but he had finally figured out the best way to go about it.

And it had worked.

He knew there would be limitations, of course. One can only trick the brain so far, after all. The bypassing of the critical function only lasts so long as the person being influenced doesn't feel threatened or uncomfortable. As soon as that happens, they snap right back to full consciousness.

Which was fine for Quentin's purposes. The less physical harm he inflicted on people, the longer he would continue to be allowed to fly under the radar. He knew the Avengers still had him under some kind of surveillance, but so far they had left him to his own devices. Quite literally.

The only snag he ever hit in any of his plans came in the form of one Peter Parker.

Spider-Man. The favorite little hero.

Quentin couldn't even fault people. The kid was just likeable. He was smart and funny and, he might be going to hell for thinking it for as long as he had, but the vision he made with that suit on, damn. Kid had one rocking body. Twink central up in there.

He really hated that he had been around Wade fucking Wilson enough that those thoughts were permanently implanted in his brain. 

Usually, Quentin wouldn't have gone for it. He was a man with a certain reputation, after all. But it had just been on offer so enthusiastically.

It was about a month after he started using his new tech. He had gotten most of the kinks that came with new tech all worked out, managed to get his tinkering and updating slowed down to a more manageable schedule.

He was still only running tiny schemes, firmly resisting the temptation of any big scores and attacks or elaborate heists until he had more experience depending on his new tech. It was no surprise when the kid had swung in, although he had hoped the lack of interference would extend to this time.

They had done their whole shtick: the banter, the dancing around each other, all of it. Quentin hadn't planned to use the drones against anyone who might try to stop him yet. There was the very obvious issue of it not working against them. Anyone with plans to stop Quentin would feel uncomfortable or threatened immediately. It probably wouldn't even last long enough for him to suggest anything.

For that, he needed to figure out how to stop the brain's pesky little critical function failsafe more permanently. Until then, he was limited by the body's natural override switch.

Still, he figured new data was new data. These were still early days, so any use was still a test run. And he hadn't had the opportunity to look into the effects on enhanced or mutated humans. Who knew how those results would vary.

So he had taken a shot. It had taken more time than Quentin had expected to see the desired effect on Peter. He hadn't truly noticed it happening until other things started happening too. He had just been trying to keep him talking long enough to get a new set of numbers to work with.

He hadn't expected it to work, not really. He definitely hadn't expected to continue talking and have Peter  _ compliment him _ in the process.

He had spouted off some shit about how it was okay for Peter to be impressed, because Quentin was an impressive guy. Thinking back, he couldn't remember the actual wording he had used. Probably because it wasn't meant to get an actual response. 

He knew Peter would be drawn in by the new technology, but he also knew the kid was brilliant, well on his way to blowing Quentin's accomplishments completely out of the water. That might be the other part of why he was attracted to the kid; he was succeeding at all the same things Quentin felt he had failed at. As if he needed a reason beyond him being fucking gorgeous... 

Either way, he was just stalling for time when, suddenly, he heard the response.

"Yeah, they are. Amazing. It's a genius concept, I'm very impressed."

Quentin had stopped in his tracks, head snapping to stare at Peter in disbelief. He hadn't stopped skirting around the room, circling the other man, but neither had Quentin.

The voice had been quiet, muffled by the mask still covering his face, but he had definitely heard what he thought he heard.

The man smirked, not the cruel smirk Peter was surely used to, but one that spoke to how pleased he was that his new tech wasn't completely ineffectual on superhuman beings. "Are you, now? Go on."

"Yes. You always have very impressive tech." He was louder this time, speaking with more conviction. Quentin thought that was all he would say, but he continued, pulling his mask off over his head and dropping it to the floor. "That's part of why the other Avenger's leave you for me to deal with. They know I've got the best chance of matching your tech knowledge and being able to fight you that way. Beat you at your own game kinda thing." 

Now that he could see them, Peter's eyes were just a bit unfocused. It was definitely not affecting Peter the same way it did normal humans. This was more like he'd had a few too many drinks as opposed to all the other people he had tested it on reacting like they'd been shot up with some drug. 

Still, definitely worth playing with some more.

"Ah, see that is a smart tactic. Looks like your team might finally be learning. So, whose idea was that? It's okay, you can tell me. Which one of those muscle heads is thinking for you guys now?" Come to think of it, he really didn't know. He had been conducting his business under the radar for a while now.

"They're not my team." Peter looked like, if he were fully conscious, he might be upset at the turn to the conversation. As it was, there was still a definite downcast shadow to his expression. "They just sorta mentor for me. They don't really want me. But that's okay, cause I don't think I want to be one of them anyway." 

"No? And here I thought you were a fully fledged Avenger by now. Not so?" Peter shook his head, slightly sweaty hair shaking out from where the mask had kept it compressed together. Their circle was getting smaller with every pass they made. 

"Oh, so they just use you when they need some extra oomph? You're their little comes-when-called, used and abused, hit and quit plaything? Good enough to keep your number, but not to give you theirs? Is that it?"

Peter flinched. Must have struck a chord. "I turned it down." There was just enough sadness to his tone that Quentin couldn't tell if he regretted the decision or just that they were talking about it. "I'm more of a friendly neighborhood guy than a big save the world kinda guy."

"See, that just seems like you're selling yourself short. I've seen your work. Obviously." He paused to give Peter a pretty obvious once over. "I think you'd fit in nicely there, if they gave you the chance. Rather than treating you like a booty call for backup. I mean, that's worse than an actual booty call. You're just getting your ass kicked. Which, unless you're really into it..." 

Quentin chuckled, tone a bit huskier than normal. He watched as a deep red heated up Peter's cheeks. "Or maybe you wouldn't blend in so well. You're much smarter than the rest of them combined. Except maybe Banner. But I bet you could give even him a run for his money."

Peter didn't say anything to that. Quentin was curious if the blushing response was from fighting the effect of his drones, the embarrassment, or the fact his enemy was somehow complimenting his intelligence while insulting his friends.

Deciding he wanted to continue seeing where this would go, he switched tactics. "I mean, you're good. No one can deny that. Not perfect, of course. You've never gotten me. But, hey, nothing to be too discouraged about. You're still learning."

He made sure to use his most condescending voice, knowing that if Peter was enjoying the praise, the reminder of his failures would send him straight off the other direction. 

He told himself this was all just to figure out the point where Peter would shake the effects of the drone-induced hypnosis, but even in his head that sounded disingenuous. 

He opted not to dwell on the fact.

"You're smart, kid, but you follow too many rules. You're too good, too  _ friendly, _ as you put it." Quentin let himself give Peter another once over, this one much more critical. "Don't worry, we all have flaws. Not like I-"

"I let you go."

The voice cut the rest of Quentin's sentence short. Had he heard that right? Had he imagined it? Peter was still maintaining his position in their careful dance around each other, not quite directly across from him, falling behind a step here, sneaking ahead a step there, but matching every movement Quentin made with one of his own.

"I'm sorry," Quentin raised his hands to touch his fingertips to his chest, eyebrows raised. "I thought we were having an open and  _ honest _ conversation just now. Or was the 'villain' telling the truth and the 'hero' lying?" He wagged his finger at the boy, mock disappointment dripping from his tone. "You know you're not supposed to switch these things up without consent from all parties, Peter."

Peter's feet stuttered over his next couple of steps. His forehead scrunched like he didn't follow what Quentin had just said. "But it's not a lie? I let you go. Every time. That's another reason they haven't offered me a spot again." The crease between his eyes got deeper, clearly unhappy about the fact.

Could he be telling the truth? There was no way. Quentin was the master of faking things, there was no way that Peter had successfully made him believe he was getting away with everything all this time.

Was there? There were times where it was very easy, simple even. But for it all to have been a lie? What possible reason could he have for letting Quentin go?

"Now, why the hell would you have let me go? You know, Peter, the secret to telling a convincing lie: it has to be believable. It's like you're not even trying."

"Cause I like fighting you."

That made him pause.

Okay, now Quentin was lost. His steps ceased, Peter falling still just to the right of being directly across from him.

After a moment's silence, Quentin finally managed to fish one question out of the sea of questions suddenly drowning his brain. "Like fighting me? What do you mean, you like fighting me? Is being beaten that enjoyable to you?"

The color in Peter's cheeks that had receded a bit returned full force now, if not a little stronger. "Well, no, not like, the physical part as much as like, the talking and stuff. Cause we talk and you don't try to kill me, and I learn things from you a lot, and sometimes the fighting is fun too, sometimes it's really hot, actually, and- you never really do anything that really hurts people so I just...let you go. So we can- so it doesn't end there, with you, you know, going to jail."

He finished his explanation and, though his voice was a little shaky by the end, a little breathy perhaps, he was standing firm with no intention to back down on this one.

Quentin felt those words tighten something deep in his gut. Huh. 

Logically, he knew there had been other words to that little speech, but his brain caught on just one detail from the whole thing: Peter said fighting him was hot.

Really hot. 

And just like that, his mind was suddenly racing with all the images he had fantasized over. He had been sure he was just a gross old man, lusting after this teenage, or just past teenage, boy. One that he regularly fought and one that, by all accounts, he should really hate.

He'd never quite been able to make that stick.

Now, though. Now there were endless possibilities playing out in his mind. They were increasingly dirty and devious. 

A stray thought pointed out that he should feel bad about even entertaining the thought. This wasn't exactly a choice made by a sound mind. He was under the influence of  _ something _ . But it was easily brushed aside. He couldn't actually make anyone do something they didn't want to do. 

Then again, Peter seemed to be reacting in ways that no one else had, but the basics should still be the same. Critical function swooping in to save the day and all. And this would be a great way to get under Peter's skin a little bit. 

There was no way Spider-Man himself would let himself consciously choose Mysterio. He probably thought he had higher standards than that. But there was clearly some desire there, winning out when his conscious mind was given the right nudge out of the way. 

Like apparently his drones could manage.

Of all the ways he had thought Peter might react, this total honesty thing was not even in the running. 

He was thoroughly enjoying it, but definitely hadn't occurred to him.

Now, what to do with Peter thinking it's hot when they fight...

Quentin took a confident step forward. If Peter were in his right mind, he would have taken up a more defensive stance. As it was, his eyes tracked the movement absently, like it was no concern to him where the other man was in the room, almost like watching a fly. Interested, but unbothered by it.

"What was that part in the middle there?" He taunted the boy, but it was also a genuine question. Had he been hit with his own hypnotic field? This was getting so far from his carefully laid plans "Did you really just say that fighting with me is hot?"

Peter's eyes flicked down for a fraction of a second before coming back up to meet Quentin's, probably a bit of the discomfort from the conversation rattling the hold the drones had over his mind. When he looked back up, his eyes were still slightly unfocused.

Good. Things were just getting interesting.

"So, let me get this straight. The perfect, amazing, 'friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,' has the hots for the big, bad, supervillain that's twice his age."

"You're not twice my age."

Oh, wow, this just kept getting better.

"Maybe not, but I am old enough to be your father. On the young side, of course," Quentin was not interested in aging himself unnecessarily. "An uncle, for sure though." 

They hadn't resumed their movements, but Quentin was slowly weaving his way closer. He was pacing, short little passes that were bringing him closer to Peter so slowly it was almost imperceptible.

Peter normally would have noticed, but Quentin doubted he was noticing anything at the moment.

The thought left a sad little twist in his gut, that he couldn't see how this would play out with their usual dynamic intact.

Oh, well. Next time maybe.

As Quentin drew closer to Peter, he got more brash with his words. "Is that why? Do I sense Daddy issues? I know you have them, but is this how you deal with them? I gotta say, I thought you were a bit more innocent than that. But wanting the villain to fuck you… that's pretty slutty, Peter."

Finally, he was close enough to touch. He dragged his hand up Peter's arm, ran it over his shoulder, along the back of his neck, before tangling it in his hair and yanking so his head jerked back.

Peter let out a strangled groan. Quentin felt a moment of dread, that he might have forced Peter from his spell. The next sound from his mouth was a quiet whine and Quentin relaxed. 

Nothing to be concerned about so far.

"Don't you think? Doesn't that seem a little slutty? Go ahead, answer me."

"Yes!" Peter's voice was tight but he was definitely not protesting. Quentin could work with that.

"Well, you're in luck. I happen to like it a little slutty. And I  _ definitely _ like you a little slutty." He stepped the rest of the way into Peter's space and traced his nose up the slender neck, nudging his head to the side. 

It left just enough room for Quentin to sink his teeth into the exposed cord of muscle. He heard Peter cry out, the sound turning straight to arousal in his brain.

"You like that?" Quentin murmured, lips still pressed against Peter's skin. "Like being called a slut? Or just that it's me doing it?" 

His entire body pressed into Peter, crowding him back, step by step, towards the wall. He kept a hand at the boy's back, other hand still clenched firmly in Peter's hair.

Peter was a bit wobbly on his feet now. Could be the hand holding his head at such an awkward angle, or could be the body walking him backward, Quentin's larger thigh pressing between his legs with every step. 

Or it could be the arousal that must be hitting him just as hard as it was hitting Quentin. 

If Quentin had been concerned about his affections not being returned, the full body contact set him at ease. There was no denying what the bulge rubbing against his thigh meant.

He stopped their slow march across the room a few feet from the wall. He'd had images of slamming Peter into a wall this way haunting his dreams since the first time he'd slammed Peter into a wall, period. He sure as shit wasn't going to miss the opportunity to actually do it.

So, that was in the plan, but it had to be done at the right moment. It had a lot to live up to, after all.

"Why don't you tell me what else you like." He laved his tongue up the shell of Peter's ear, probably clamping down harder than a fully conscious Peter would have approved of. But the version he was dealing with right now was definitely interested. 

He cooed at the shudder that wracked Peter's frame. "What do you imagine happening that gets you worked up when we fight? Go ahead and show me. I might even let you have it."

Suddenly, Quentin's world spun as he was shoved back the last few feet, practically falling into the wall. He hit hard, harder than he was prepared for. His armor took the brunt of the force, but he was still winded. The body slamming into his front didn't help.

Holy shit, the kid really had been holding back on him. The move was so smooth, he hadn't even seen it coming. And now he was being held firmly against the wall, hand still somehow buried in Peter's hair, while Peter's clever fingers were already undoing his suit.

Even he couldn't get all the fastenings undone that quickly.

Peter had managed to unclasp all the metal bits, tossing the pieces to the ground as he went, uncaring where they landed. He was crazed, almost, in his rush to get to his goal.

When he finally exposed the undersuit, he tore the top from the bottoms, shoving it up the man's chest. He got one hand under the shirt, running along the quickly heating skin under the dusting of chest hair, while the other wasted no time sliding down into the front of Quentin's pants.

Quentin jerked at the touch, rough on his sensitive skin. He wasn't fully hard yet, but with the harsh handling he was getting, it wasn't going to take long.

"Oh, yeah? Was this what you were fantasizing about? Huh, kid? Shoving  _ me _ up against the wall instead?" Peter nearly growled in response. He was rutting against Quentin's thigh, hard, biting at Quentin's exposed neck. Not as hard as Quentin had bitten him, but leaving tiny aching marks on the skin everywhere his mouth touched.

"The plan for me was-" Quentin started, cutting off when the sound started to turn into a moan. "I was gonna pin you here," Peter jerked against him, the mental image doing things to him as he took in Quentin's words. "I was gonna have you face first against this wall, begging. Begging for me to fuck you, to give it to you harder."

He felt Peter's hand tighten around his cock. He bucked forward into it against his will. Feeling the movement, Peter leaned into him harder, displeased. He held Quentin securely to the wall, so tightly he couldn't move again if he tried.

"Shit, kid. You were serious about letting me go, weren't you? Fuck, this is-" Quentin wasn't sure how to end the sentence. Hot. Overwhelming. Amazing in a way he had never considered. "-good. Yeah, fuck. Keep going."

He wasn't sure if Peter was even listening, but they seemed to want the same thing. His next move was to tear at the pants to his undersuit rather than loosen the string at the top.

He felt heat shoot up his spine at the sound of fabric tearing and the brief tightening of the article of clothing as it gave under Peter's bare hands. The rush of being freed from his clothes in such a manner was distracting to say the least. 

The chilled air pressed in around him, surrounding him in the knowledge of just how exposed they were. He shivered, but the temperature was the last thing on his mind. 

How could he be expected to focus on other things when he had Peter Parker, gorgeous eternal twink that he was, rubbing himself off against his now bare leg? 

As soon as Quentin realized Peter was still in his suit, he heard the release being triggered. He watched the suit fall to the floor, just enough focus left in his brain to make note of needing to look into that sort of thing for his own suit when Peter grabbed his jaw.

The grip he had was tight; there would definitely be finger marks there later. Maybe not tomorrow, but for a while. He just barely registered the pain as his head was shoved back against the wall and then Peter's mouth was on his. 

The pain made his head spin a little, as did the knowledge he was being kissed so aggressively by Peter, Spider-Man, the one person he should never want this kind of thing with. 

How many times had this kid messed up his life with his whole heroing gig? And yet, he found himself unable to resist, opening his mouth to the confident tongue forcing its way into his mouth.

He felt the scrape of teeth on his bottom lip, the hand on his jaw angling his head however Peter saw fit. And the kid was doing better than Quentin had ever dreamed.

In all of Quentin's fantasies, Peter had been the flustered, blushing virgin. Never had he been anything like this. Assertive, demanding, taking what he wanted with little regard for anything else, let alone what his partner wanted.

Quentin let out a soft gasp, rocked forward the little bit he could manage with the new position. Peter had to be pressed up onto his toes to reach Quentin's mouth at the angle he wanted, so Quentin had gained just a little wiggle room. 

It was enough. 

He snuck a hand down in between their bodies. Once he got his hand on Peter, he started working over him quickly, gathering the precome from the tip to ease the glide over the hot skin.

Peter upped the pace, his kisses ravaging Quentin and leaving him breathless. Quentin was using the space he had to shove off the wall, thrusting forward into Peter's hand as it worked up and down his shaft.

Just as he felt Peter start to slip, the rhythm he had set for them stuttering just a bit, his world shifted again.

Peter had grabbed one of Quentin's legs and held it wrapped over his hip bone. It took the man longer than he was proud of to notice the hand was gone from his jaw.

The hand that had been stroking his erection disappeared. His brain was just beginning to function well enough to feel the rush of air and understand what it meant. 

Peter had used his foot to kick his suit up into his hand. He rifled through what must be some secret compartment for a second before Quentin felt the fabric slip down his side and knew the suit had been discarded again.

Before he could begin to wonder what came next, he felt slick fingers follow down his cock, over his balls, and back to his hole. He shuddered at the feeling, whole body tightening up with how unexpectedly thrilling it all was.

Peter was getting ready to fuck him.

Against a wall.

Surrounded by their clothing, some of which had literally been torn off of his body in Peter's heated mission to gain access to Quentin's body.

He groaned thinking about it. This possibility had never crossed his mind, but he knew he would never be able to forget it now. It was permanently embedded in his memory already. 

He felt powerless, completely at Peter's mercy.

And he liked it.

_He_ _wanted it._

Peter pressed a finger in. It wasn't too much, the feeling more foreign than anything. He wasn't used to this. Still, he forced himself to relax, just barely managing in time. Not a second later, Peter pulled the one finger out and replaced it with two. 

There was a peculiar sting to it. Strange, although not unwelcome. No sooner had he gotten used to the second finger than a third was joining it, all three slick but very clearly aimed at stretching him out, quickly and none too gently.

As he was stretched, he hissed at the roughness he was being handled with. Peter's mouth had resumed biting and sucking at Quentin's skin, everywhere he could reach: neck, collarbone, chest, nipples. He was going to have so many marks and the thought just sent another spark of heat right to his groin.

Peter changed the angle he was using to ram his fingers into Quentin and struck a spot that made him shout. His head fell back against the wall again, vision blurring from all the overwhelming sensations.

The fingers pulled out and then Peter was lining himself up at Quentin's entrance. He paused for just a moment, grabbing Quentin's jaw to adjust his face so he could look into his eyes. 

Whether it was to check that it was okay or if he was just making sure Quentin was watching him when he pushed in, fast and deep, Quentin wasn't sure. Either way, it sent a shock through him, powerful enough for his whole body to convulse forward.

Peter caught his hips and shoved him back again, muscle digging into the wall behind him hard enough he could feel the brick scratch his skin. He reached his arms out to his sides, above his head, grasping for something, anything to anchor himself with as Peter began pounding into him with no mercy.

Eventually he gave up and just clutched onto Peter's shoulders, head still tilted back on a shout of pleasure, more sounds spilling from his lips than he even imagined coming from Peter in his fantasy of this scenario reversed.

He felt the pressure building, no respite from the harsh, unrepentant pace Peter was setting. Sounds started spilling from Peter's mouth as well, and Quentin was lost to it.

He had wanted to be the one making those sounds happen. Those sounds and more, forced uncontrollably from his throat as Quentin fucked into Peter again and again until he completely lost it, covering either both of their stomachs and chests or the brick wall in front of him with the evidence of how desperately he enjoyed Quentin's cock.

Logically, he knew he was still the reason behind those sounds, those wonderful noises. But this was something different. This was Peter using him for his own pleasure, nothing more. Just like what Quentin had told him to do.

He had no real complaints and his brain wouldn't let him focus on them even if he did.

He was struggling to keep up, forcing his hips forward as far as he could reach to meet Peter's frantic thrusts. "Fuck, Pete, don't, ah-" Quentin was struggling to even make his thoughts make sense. "Fuck! Don't you dare stop!"

"No, not stopping. Oh, so good, I can't-" Peter's hips started losing their rhythm again, unable to maintain the brutal fucking under the onslaught of pleasure and sheer sensation.

Quentin felt the hand return to his cock, stroking with an urgency he hadn't experienced since his teens. Fuck, but he didn't need the extra stimulation. He was already basically there and now-

"Fuck!" He came with another shout, spilling white all over his abs, uncontrolled in a way he hadn't been in years.

He clenched tight around Peter and dug his fingers into the shoulders of the kid in an effort to ground himself. Something in the combination of the sound and sight of Quentin falling apart mixed with the pure 'tight' that overtook his mind, Peter followed right after with a hoarse, drawn out shout.

As Peter shook through his orgasm, Quentin started to feel his limbs again. He had been in such an awkward position for so long that the leg still held wrapped around Peter's hip felt entirely foreign to him. Getting his breath back, Peter ended up slumped against Quentin, somehow still supporting a good deal of both their weights.

Quentin was struck again by how much the kid had been holding back on him. He knew Peter was strong, had no doubt as to his skill, but tonight had been eye opening in more ways than one.

Quentin waited a while for Peter to get off of him and let them both go about their lives before he remembered with a start what had led them to this situation. Cursing himself for getting so caught up in everything, he called the drones off, shutting down the entire program and sending them home for the night.

When Peter still didn't move, he started to feel a little of that concern from before creeping up on him again.

"Peter? Hey, kid." He removed his hand from Peter's shoulder and brought it up to his cheek, turning his head so he could see his face. "You good?"

His eyes were hooded, but there was awareness in them that hadn't been there before. There was also a glint in his eyes that seemed out of place.

"Hey. You maybe wanna let me go now?" He gestured around them, the building they were in not really the kind of place to hang around and enjoy the afterglow. 

"Nah, not really." Peter sighed and squeezed the hand holding Qunetin's thigh, almost nuzzling in against him.

"And why not?" Quentin could feel Peter slip out from him, and the uncomfortable dripping that followed. He made a face. "This can't be pleasant for you anymore."

"I always let you go, I'm gonna take my time tonight. After all, I think I earned it." There was that glint in his eyes again. It was starting to make Quentin nervous. Peter was too smart for that look to mean anything good.

"Haha, very funny. What makes you think you earned it?" Quentin asked, trying to subtly test how strong Peter's hold was. It appeared he wasn't backing down from this one, whatever it was.

"Well, wasn't my performance worth it?" Peter blinked up at him innocently.

Quentin jerked back, squinting down at him. "What do you mean, your 'performance?'"

"Your drones are great, as always, but the hypnotics need a bit of work still. You didn't account for enhanced senses. You are relying on human eyesight, but there isn't any room for error on things that influence the brain. Making the brain see something is easy, making it believe something is harder, apparently."

Peter smirked a little, looking up through his lashes. Flushed and innocent looking, but thoroughly fucked, his face had Quentin feeling things that he was too old to be feeling this soon after an intense orgasm like he just had.

"...so you're telling me that did nothing to you?"

"Well, not nothing. I was pretty calm, which is weird for me. Cause usually around you I'm a little, well, excited." Peter's cheeks were turning red with embarrassment. He had just fucked Quentin into a brick wall with little to no prompting from the other man and now he was blushing while admitting to being attracted to him. 

This kid was unreal.

Quentin continued to stare dumbfounded at Peter, so he kept talking. "I mean, really all you'd have to do to fix it would be add a setting for more saturated colors or more intense exposure or something like that. Maybe faster succession in the order of what's projected. Shorter time, quicker movement? Just boost something in the numbers and you'd probably be golden."

"Wait, wait, wait. So, that… all of that was just-" Quentin couldn't even conceive of what he was hearing. "That was just you? What? Shooting your shot?"

Peter looked down and let go of Quentin's leg finally. He backed away a step, slowly gathering up his things to redress. "Well, yeah, I guess. You were trying something new, you thought I was under your influence, I figured there was really no reason not to. I could've overpowered you if I needed to, or I could have played it off like I was totally gone on it and just let you keep believing that."

"So, you were okay with letting me think you were entirely out of your mind for that whole thing? That implies lack of consent. And you would have been okay leaving me with that?"

"If that implies no consent, then why were you okay with doing it? And if I had no control over myself, wouldn't your consent have changed too? Technically this whole experience is a 'Safe, Sane, and Consensual' nightmare. Not to mention the politics of the whole, 'not saying no doesn't mean it's a yes' thing…"

Peter trailed off, looking like he had confused himself in the process of his bantering. 

"Look, don't hurt yourself. I tested it. Like, a lot. Your brain kicks you back to fully conscious if you're not comfortable with the situation.  _ I _ knew you were never in any danger. But  _ you _ didn't know I knew that, so low blow there, Mr. Parker."

Peter looked at Quentin for a long moment then sighed. "Can we just agree that you pay for both of us to get therapy and we agree to do this the right way next time?"

Quentin couldn't help the burst of laughter that came from Peter's certainty there would be a next time. Slipping back into the torn undersuit, he shook his head. "You know what? If you find a therapist that can deal with all of our collective issues, sure. Deal."

Peter's eyes lit up again, leaping at the fact Quentin hadn't corrected his assumption that there would be a next time. "Great! How should I let you know when I have the appointments booked?"

Fishing around on the ground for the piece of his suit with pockets, he pulled out a card with his number on it. It wasn't often he gave out contact info while in his Mysterio get-up, so this was a special occasion.

"Here. You can use that number. Texting, I assume, given your age." He held his hand out for Peter to take the card. As Peter reached for it, he pulled his hand back. "This offer doesn't extend to any of your non-teammate teammates, got it?"

Peter scoffed. "Like I'd share you with them anyway. They pawned me off on you, they get to suffer the consequences. They were practically match-making us, as far as I'm concerned."

Quentin chuckled at the kids sass as he let the card be pulled from his hand this time. 

Soon Peter was leaving, while Quentin was still getting his armor together. Spur-of-the-moment, he called out to stop him. "Hey, kid."

Peter turned to look at him, eyebrow raised, just getting ready to put his mask back on.

"Since we're switching up how we do things next time, you'll be the one getting fucked into the wall."

Peter scrunched his face like he was trying to decipher why that was. Quentin answered the unspoken question with a simple, "You're more indestructible. I can be rough with you and I  _ know  _ you won't break."

He winked and Peter flushed bright red again before shoving his mask on and swinging away out the window.

Quentin smiled at how he could affect the kid, even if his tech couldn't. Yet. 

He was suddenly looking forward to their next encounter. 

**Author's Note:**

> So Peter wasn't actually hypnotized. Idk if it counts for my prompt that way but it just happened that way cause he's a little shit like that. Definitely wasn't the plan.
> 
> Thank you to anyone who made it through! I had much fun writing this, as always with them. Kudos, comments, even constructive criticism are always so deeply appreciated! 
> 
> [https://discord.gg/6wFsB2f](link)  
> Here is the link to the server that brought this fic into my brain and therefore the world!


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